


Watcher of the Eternal Flame

by GamerAlexis



Series: Live With Me Forever [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Immortality, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamerAlexis/pseuds/GamerAlexis
Summary: Five years after the Corpirate single-handedly dismantled the Fake AH Crew, they come back to Los Santos to take back their title, but they are not the same men from before.  Geoff is more cautious, Jack more nervous.  Michael and is angry and vengeful while Gavin flounders in confusion.  Ryan keeps on his mask and rarely speaks while making constant phone calls to Russia.But Lindsay has an agenda and underneath her leadership the Fakes begin their march against the Corpirate and his minions.





	1. The Returning

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Immortals" by Fall Out Boy

**Michael**

Michael groaned and shut off the television.  Los Santos had devolved from a crime hub to a criminal city.  It had been years since the Corpirate pushed them out of the city and it had only gone downhill from there.

Instead of being there, fighting for his city, Michael was here. Here with an apartment and an actual job, living like a civilian and it fucking sucked.  He can’t remember how many nights he woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of their heists and their immortality.

Which never turned off, thank Christ.  The first few days as an electrician would have killed Michael dead otherwise.

Michael flung himself down onto the crappy velvet couch.  It belonged on antique roadshow but instead it was in this shitty apartment in shitty New Jersey with Michael on top of it.  He was going to burn it first chance he got.

The door opened with an unreasonable squeak that made Michael’s ears bleed.  There was the rustle of grocery bags and the clatter of keys.

“Home early, boi,” Michael shouted.

“Holidays, love,” Gavin called back.

At least this was nice.  Michael sighed and listened to the familiar sounds of Gavin putting away the groceries.  The clink of beer in the fridge and the sound of bags getting stuffed into the tiny freezer.  Gavin was humming a Christmas song and Michael felt something in his chest constrict with longing.

Even though it had been years since they were a crew, Michael still remembered their one Christmas together.  Jack had been absolutely overcome with holiday spirit and wore an elf hat for months.  He and Gavin had decorated a tree with decorations that Michael stole.  Jeremy offhandedly suggested a gift exchange and Geoff latched onto it with both hands.

Everyone had been crammed into the suite, Fakehaus, the Screwfakes, even the Kinda Fakes crawled out of hiding for the party.  There were drinks and snacks and mistletoe on every single doorframe.

It was the first Christmas Michael had with some kind of family and even though he and Gavin had plenty of Christmases since then, he still looked back on that one as his favorite.

Soon enough, Gavin came and curled himself up next to Michael.  He started talking about the absolute asinine people he had to deal with at work.  Michael just quietly listened to the rise and fall of Gavin’s voice, as well as the chirps and squawks when he got particularly heated.

Someone knocked at the door.  Gavin stopped talking and Michael went on high alert.  He reached around Gavin and grabbed the pistol he kept hidden underneath the couch.  Slowly and carefully, Michael crept over Gavin, gun a heavy and comforting presence in his hand.  Gavin came behind him, casually grabbing a kitchen knife on the way.

Gun hidden, Michael opened the door.

An exhausted looking mailman was on the other side of the door.

“You’re pretty fucking special to get a letter this late,” he said, holding out a nondescript envelope.

Michael took it and the mailman left, hefting his bag on his shoulder.  Gavin immediately took the envelope and threw it into the kitchen.  In a flurry of movement, he pulled out a scanner (homemade even) and flipped the lights off.

“C’mon, Gav, it’s not a bomb,” Michael shut the door, sliding the three locks back into place and tucking his gun in his pants.

“I’ve made bombs the size of microchips,” Gavin said.  “Ryan – ”

Michael paused and Gavin stopped.

“But if you want to die then fine,” Gavin’s voice was tight as he pushed the letter to Michael.

It was completely ordinary - creamy paper with Michael and Gavin’s name written in flowing handwriting with a little cat insignia in the corner.  Fuck, Michael had nothing else to lose at this point.

He tore the letter open and braced for the worst.

Nothing happened.  A little green postcard peeked out of the envelope and Michael grabbed it.  He read over it quickly and his stomach dropped.  His hands started shaking and the blood rushed to his ears.  This couldn’t be true, couldn’t be happening.  It had been years after all, fucking years.  Michael slowly slid the postcard across the table.

“Oh,” Gavin whispered, his hands falling limp onto the table.  “Oh my, God.  Michael.”

“I know,” Michael whispered back.  “Holy shit.”

“Do we go?”

Gavin looked across the table at Michael with big green eyes, narrow frame shaking.  They had a good thing here, two civilians living a normal life.  They didn’t have to go back, back to their gang life, back to Los Santos.

But goddammit, Michael wanted it.  He wanted to go back to that crime life, back to the Fake AH Crew.  He wanted to be cruising at a thousand miles, shooting cops and running heists.  He missed being together, missed Ryan and Geoff and Jack and Ray.  He missed getting to know Jeremy and Matt and learning about Kdin and Caleb.

“I’m going,” Michael said finally.  “You don’t have to, Gav, but I’m going.”

“I’m with you,” Gavin said immediately, reaching across the table and taking Michael’s hand in his.  “Always, boi.  I’m always with you.”

Michael let out a shivery breath and walked around to Gavin’s side of their little table.  He took Gavin’s face in hand, thumbs on Gavin’s cheeks, and pulled him up for a kiss.

“God, I love you, Gavin,” Michael whispered against Gavin’s lips.

Gavin hummed and tugged Michael in closer.  “We should rob the bank down the street.”

“We should,” Michael agreed.  “You and me, a couple of guns, my sweet ride.”

“Bonnie and Clyde,” Gavin grinned.  He reached out and tucked his fingers into Michael’s jeans.  “But maybe this first?”

Michael felt his gaze heat up and his dick twitch at the hunger in Gavin’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Michael swallowed, hips thrusting against Gavin’s hands.  “This first.”

 

**Geoff**

Geoff woke up to his phone ringing.  He fumbled for it on the bedside table, knocking over his gun and wallet in the process.  With bleary eyes and rough voice, he answered the phone with a grunt.

“Where the hell are you?”

Oh great. The wife.

“Morning, Jack,” Geoff yawned as he stretched on the bed.  He sighed as he felt his back pop.

“It’s fucking four in the afternoon,” Jack snapped.  “Where the hell are you and where the fuck have you been?”

Geoff glanced around the room.  Spartan with horrid wallpaper and boring artwork.  The bedside table had a lamp and a bible.  He stumbled up off the bed and peered out the window.  He was in a motel in the middle of nowhere Texas.  The sun was hanging low in the sky and city lights glowed in the distance.

“I think, fucking, outside of Dallas?” Geoff guessed.  It was hard to remember where he had been this last week.  Floating around, taking odd jobs here and there.  He had a bag of cash under the bed, a gun he dropped on the ground, and the promise of another heist in Wyoming.

“Well, you left your home address with me,” Jack sighed.  Shit, he sounded more annoyed than usual.  “And you got a letter.”

“Big fucking deal,” Geoff pulled out the duffle and tucked his guns in.  “I always get mail.”

He threw a bundle of hundreds on the bed for the bloodstains in the bathroom and gathered his things in the duffle.  He had a stolen Mercedes in the parking lot and hopefully some other jackass didn’t steal it.

“It’s from Los Santos,” Jack said.  “With the logo.”

Geoff stopped halfway through walking out the door.  The hallway was just as atrocious as the rooms, decorated with paisley carpet and mustard colored walls.  Damn, Geoff sure could pick motels after a heist.

“The logo?” Geoff whispered, almost reverently.  “ _My_ logo?”

“Yeah,” Jack’s voice dropped.

Geoff slammed the door shut and almost ran out of the motel.  The Mercedes lit up in the lot as he popped the trunk.  The rest of his weapons were tucked in the trunk and he threw the duffle in.

“And you’re sure it’s legit?”

“I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t.”

The leather seats were soft as Geoff slipped in.  The engine started with a purr and Geoff pulled out far too quickly for how tiny the parking lot was.  Wasn’t his fucking car after all.

“But we disbanded,” Geoff said.  “It was years ago, Jack.  Dammit, I don’t even know where the rest of the boys are!”

“It wasn’t one of the boys.”

“What?”

“Just – just come home and see.”

“You’re still in California?”

“Always have been.”

“I’ll be there in twelve hours.”

Geoff pulled onto the interstate and floored it.

 

**Ryan**

He checked his watch for the hundredth time in the last hour.  It had been three years since his last full night of sleep.  He had been on the airplane for almost four hours.  The rest of the passengers were asleep or watching the in-flight film.  Ryan’s eyes ached as he stared out the window.

The stars were clear above the clouds and Ryan fingered the card in his pocket, a particularly green card that brought back too many memories.  He hadn’t been back in the states since he left and apprehension left his stomach in knots.

Years he had been on the run, avoiding anything of his past life with the Fakes.  Years following a hint of a trail to find Ray only to see him arm in arm with someone else.  Then it was traveling across the globe to forget about everything.

The letter shouldn’t have even made it to Ryan.  He hadn’t been in one place for more than a month but here it was, a letter with Ryan’s name inscribed neatly on the envelope and a polite, but firm, invitation to come back to Los Santos.

He didn’t want to go back.  He never wanted to go back.  He spent years running across Europe so he would never have to go back.  Years fighting off insomnia and panic attacks.  What little sleep he had was filled with dreams of Ray leaving, of Ray dying, of Ray breaking Ryan’s heart.

Ryan’s phone flashed on his leg, the name SONYA in bold black letters.

_Back to the states, Vagabond?_

Ryan’s lips pulled up in a smirk.

_Gonna buy new burner phone once I land.  I’ll call._

_Don’t be stranger, no?_

As if he ever could.  Ryan shut his phone off and tucked it into his bag.  He stared out the window until the sun began to rise and the other passengers started to stir and not once did Ryan feel the tug of exhaustion in his bones.

Six hours, one crying baby, and some mild turbulence later, Ryan was stepping off the airplane.  His backpack was as heavy as the humid air and he pushed past the crowd in an airport that was achingly familiar.  Ryan paused by the window looking out over the parking lot and let the emotions wash over him.

He thought he would hate coming back here, back to where it all began, back to where he met Ray, where he discovered his immortality.  He was braced against the onslaught of anger and sadness but that’s not what happened.

Instead his chest expanded at the sight.  Something warm washed over him as he looked out at the stupid ramp Gavin had tried for a month to do a successful stunt jump on.  It was warm and nostalgic and the knots in his stomach loosened and the weight on his shoulders lifted.

Home.  Ryan was home.

 

**Gavin**

Hand in hand with Michael, they stared up at the giant office building.

“This is the right address, innit?” Gavin asked, pulling out the card.

“Yeah,” Michael said.  “Look at the name.”

The building sat on the street corner of downtown L.S. beside the Maze Bank.  It was brown with thousands of windows, each of them allowing a perfect glance to the offices inside.  Gavin could already see hundreds of men and women working, all dressed to the nines.

Emblazed on the top of the building in fancy writing and neon green lettering were the words _Ramsey Enterprises_.  Gavin’s throat tightened and his breath caught in his lungs.  He knew on the other side of the bank was the Corpriate’s headquarters.  Whoever did this was fucking ballsy, that was certain.

“We gotta go in eventually,” Michael said.

Gavin nodded.  They didn’t move.  The glass doors in front of them opened and a shockingly familiar face with pink hair walked out.  He made a beeline straight for Gavin and Michael. *

“Holy shit, Kdin?” Michael reacted first.

“You are late,” Kdin said primly, adjusting the hem of his shirt.  “Everyone else is already in, even Ryan and he came from Africa.”

“Dude, it is so good to see a familiar face,” Michael grinned.  “Nice hair, man.”

“It’s actually woman, now,” Kdin said.  “And I’m being serious, you two are late as hell.  They’re going to start without you.”

Kdin turned on her heel and marched right back into the building, leaving Michael and Gavin stunned and gaping.  Dumbly, Gavin followed, dragging Michael behind him.  Kdin said that everyone was there, that _Ryan_ was there.

Stumbling over his feet, Gavin practically ran after Kdin.  His heart pounded in his chest fit to burst and his head was spinning.  Michael’s hand was sweaty, calloused fingers familiar against his own, as he gripped Gavin’s hand tight enough to hurt.

The interior of the building was as minimalist as the outside.  The tile floor was white marble and there was a staircase in the back.  Dozens of desks were scattered on the sides with a large receptionist desk in the middle.  Gavin didn’t recognize any of the workers.

Kdin led them to the elevators next to the staircase and pressed the button for the top floor.

“What is all this?” Gavin asked as the glass elevator rose.  The building was shaped in a square with a courtyard, complete with fountain, in the middle.  There had to be over a hundred people working at this place but other than Kdin, there was no sign of any former Fakes.

“Best if I let the boss explain that one,” Kdin smiled.  “It’s been really hard these past few years with the Corpirate but we’re making due.”

“Who’s the boss?” Michael asked.  “Why did they use Geoff’s name?”

The elevator dinged.  The golden doors slid open to reveal a large open conference room.  The walls were made of glass that looked over the entirety of Los Santos, including the Corpirate’s building next door.  Inside was a large table made of dark wood and dozens of chairs surrounding it.  A whiteboard was tucked into a corner and a bookshelf stood beside it.

Seven people were already in the room and Gavin’s eyes pricked at the sight of them.  Michael gasped and Gavin squeezed their hands tighter.

Jack was the first to move.  He looked the exact same, bushy beard and gentle eyes, and he practically ran to Gavin and Michael, engulfing them both in a bone-crushing hug.  He still smelled the same, like home.  Jack’s hugs have always been a safe place, ever since Gavin was young and ambitious first starting his life of crime.

“I missed you boys,” he whispered into Gavin’s hair.  “Fuck, it’s so good to see you!”

“Yeah,” Gavin said in a thick voice.  “You too, Jack.”

Jack pulled away too soon and led them to the table.  Gavin and Michael sat down awkwardly, still holding hands, and Gavin looked around.  Jeremy and Matt were at the base of the table, both looking older and more hardened than last time.  Trevor was sitting opposite, hunched over in a black hoodie, bandages covering his knuckles.  Next to him was Caleb, eyes stern and his hands folded neatly at the table.  Even Kerry was here, still fidgety and constantly looking at his phone.

Finally, Gavin let his gaze slide over to Ryan, only to balk.  Ryan had dyed his hair black and it was longer than before, tied into a ponytail behind his mask - a black leather skull mask in fact.  He was wearing a dark leather jacket and his arms were folded imposingly over his chest.  Gavin could barely make out Ryan’s blue eyes behind the mask.

It wasn’t the Ryan that Gavin remembered from before.

He turned away far too quickly to the last member of this group, ignoring the shivers down his spine from Ryan.

She was blonde, Gavin noticed first, with brown eyes and a bright smile.  She looked soft, far too soft to be in this room of hardened criminals.  She wore a pinstripe blazer over a white button up and a tailored pencil skirt.  Her heels were red to match her lipstick and her nails had a little black cat design.

“Hello everyone,” she said in a much deeper voice that Gavin was expecting.  “I’m Lindsay Tuggey, CEO of Ramsey Enterprises.  I’m sure you all are wondering why I brought you here.  Well, the answer is simple.  I want to rebuild the Fake AH Crew.”

 

**Jack**

He opened his phone and sighed.  No new notifications.  Geoff hadn’t shown up in time and Jack had no choice but to fly out without him.  It had been a full 24 hours now and Jack was getting nervous.

The Lindsay girl had done a good job, Jack had to admit.  Ramsey Enterprises specialized in architecture and alcohol and was the proprietor of nearly every bar or club in the city, all done legally.  Almost all of Lindsay’s employees had no idea they were the front of what was going to be a major criminal empire.

She even managed to rebuild a few of the old Fakes allies.  Fakehaus was masquerading as a German themed strip club.  FakeAttack changed their name and started to run a paintball business out in the desert while the Kinda Fakes spread themselves as messengers between bars.

All Lindsay needed was the crew, the immortals.

After the meeting everyone had split.  There was a lot of work to do and little time to do it.  Jack had remained in the conference room, staring down at his phone waiting for Geoff’s name to flash on the screen.

And it hadn’t.

Lindsay sat down next to him and gently patted his shoulder

“We can’t do this without Geoff,” Jack said softly.  “But I – I don’t know where he is.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Lindsay said.

“I don’t… I don’t think so,” Jack said.  “He’d be here by now.”

Something felt wrong.  Geoff ran off hundreds of time before, but he always came back and always called.  Geoff would never leave Jack hanging like this, he never has before.  Even when he was in the middle of a firefight in Chicago he called to tell Jack he might come home with another death underneath his belt.

Kerry came in, phone pressed against his ear as he nodded frantically.  Lindsay was up on high alert immediately.  He walked up to the table and pulled out a notepad from his jacket, scribbling rapidly on it.

Lindsay’s face went flat and still as she read the words Kerry was writing.

“Fucking hell,” she sighed.  “No time to prepare.  Geoff’s in prison.  They’re moving him to Los Santos tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of a direct spiritual sequel of the last chapter of the last fic - where we take a glimpse of where everyone is before the actual story begins.
> 
> *Note on Kdin: I love and respect the hell out of her. In the last fic she wasn't yet out as trans. Since then, of course, she has come out and in between the last fic and this one is when fanfic!Kdin also made that transition. That's why when Gavin and Michael first see her they misgender her because they didn't know. For the rest of this story Kdin will be the wonderful transwoman she is in reality!


	2. The Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin thought that returning to the crew meant everything would be the same, but Geoff wasn't as confident, Jack went cold, and Ryan was untouchable. He never thought that Michael, lovely Michael, would change so much too, push Gavin away and become so distant.
> 
> And after a while, Gavin felt himself start to change too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so. I've kept this fic on hold forever because I have so many ideas with no idea how to connect them into one, succinct, fic. But I have SUCH a story to tell with this immortal crew, I have plot twists, and subplots, and all of this STUFF just hanging around in my head and I have desperately wanted to share it.
> 
> That being said, this fic will end up being a series of loosely connected vignettes that somewhat chronologically follow what happens to our immortal lads and gents and their eventual take down of the Corpirate and his cronies.
> 
> To any who have waited - here we go! To new readers - welcome and I hope you enjoy!

Lindsay had pulled out all the stops to bring the crew back to Los Santos, Gavin was reasonably impressed.  Kdin had lead the crew (Gavin felt a trill down his spine thinking of the crew together again) to an opulent set of apartment suites.  Ryan had immediately gone into his, shutting and locking the door behind him.  Jack awkwardly patted Gavin on the back before retreating into his own.  Michael and Gavin had separate rooms, but Gavin instinctively followed Michael.

“Whoa, Gav,” Michael stopped him.  “This is my place, not ours.”

“But Michael,” Gavin looked down at Michael’s hand, firm against Gavin’s chest.  “We shared a place before.”

“It’s… I dunno, it’s too much right now,” Michael lowered his head sheepishly but made no move to let Gavin in either.  “Geoff’s in prison, the crew’s back together, I just… I need some time alone right now, okay?”

Michael pushed Gavin away, gently, and shut the door.  Dumbstruck, Gavin stood in the hallway, nose almost pressed up against Michael’s door.  This would be the first time Gavin didn’t share a space with Michael in years.  Gavin leaned forward and rested his head on Michael’s door.  When the crew disbanded, when the world went to shit, Michael was right there next to Gavin.

And now he wasn’t.

 

Breaking out Geoff was easy, in fact it was surprisingly easy.  Lindsay had a crazy plan that she and Steffie had come up with on a whim.  It had the Fakes written all over it, with gratuitous explosions, a limo, a tank, and a train escape.  It was certainly a sign that the Fake AH Crew was back in Los Santos.  Once they escaped the cops and jumped off the bridge, the sailed into the ocean and let Lindsay take care of the rest.

Apparently she had connections for  _days_ and scrubbing someone's entire criminal history was nothing to her, but it still took time and they couldn't go back to land until the deed was done.

Sitting out beyond the shoreline, Gavin got his first good look at Geoff Ramsey.

"You look like shit," Gavin said.

"Prison will do that to you," Geoff sighed.  He was pale and gaunt, his eyes bruised with exhaustion.  His hands were shaking.

Jack reached over and took Geoff's hands in his.

"I think this is the first time none of us died," Jack mentioned casually.  "Lindsay knows what she's doing."

"You don't really think this is gonna work, do you?" Michael sneered.  "This is what got us run out last time!  We got too cocky and fucking fucked over.  What makes her different than Geoff?  How is this gonna end up any differently than before?"

"Michael," Gavin tugged at Michael's sleeve but he brushed him off.

"I'm willing to play along, see how far she goes," Michael said.  "But trust me, she's going to fail just like we did and we're all gonna die, again, and get run out.  Again."

"I dunno," Jack shrugged.  "She's done a lot more research than we did.  She built herself up as a business before a crime syndicate.  If anyone can do this, I think she can."

"Yeah, you would think that.  Jack with his fucking heart of gold.  Well, what good did that do any of us?  She couldn't even get Ray to come back!"

Ryan stood up so suddenly that the boat tipped dangerously on the waters.  His skull mask stared at each of them, the barest glimpse of his eyes in the sockets.  His shoulders were tense and Gavin shrunk between Geoff and Michael.  He'd never seen Ryan so angry before, not even when Gavin crashed his Zentorno.

"Don't you dare talk about him," Ryan growled.

The comm units in their ears crackled to life and Lindsay's perky voice broke the silence.

"You're all set to come back now!  Geoff Ramsey, you are a free man."

 

Gavin stared up at his ceiling.  The apartments that Lindsay had bought for them were all in downtown Los Santos, a few blocks away from Ramsey Enterprises.  They were situated beneath the penthouse suite that Lindsay had given to Geoff.  Jack had immediately moved upstairs with Geoff, leaving their floor with Gavin, Michael, and Ryan.

Somehow, Gavin never ran into them outside of crew meetings.  They had met a handful of times since the Prison Job (as Trevor was fondly calling it) either in the penthouse or in the conference room.  Lindsay had given them a brief rundown of the Corpirate's business and criminal associates and Gavin thought, maybe, Jack was right and Lindsay was going to be the brains to lead their crew to success.

But right now?  Right now, Gavin was lonely as shit.

He had no Michael, no boi to laugh and fuck.  He had no Ryan, no ridiculous 'would you rather' games or salty banter.  He had no Geoff, no Jack, and no Ray.

Dragging himself out of his bed, Gavin grabbed the half empty bottle of champagne on the ground and wandered to his kitchen.

Michael had yelled at him yesterday.  Called him a fucking idiot with no fondness in his voice, no teasing in his eyes.  Gavin tipped the champagne over in the sink, watching it swirl and bubble down the drain.

Thousands of dollars, gone.

He threw the bottle against the wall.  The shattering of glass was sharp against his ears.

 

The first time Gavin indulged himself, it was on a pair of sunglasses.  They were inlaid with gold and studded with diamonds and Gavin had to have them.  It was a sizable chunk out of his bank account but he left the shop feeling lighter than air.  With the sunglasses on his face, no one could see the bags underneath his eyes or the fear in his gaze.  Everyone would see the shine of the gold or the flash of the gems.

They pulled of a series of small heists, just enough to keep their bank accounts heavy and give a healthy dose of fear to the city.

And Gavin wasted all of it.

He bought a golden watch, heavy and gaudy on his wrist.  Then came the thousand dollar shirts, designer jeans and diamond earrings.  He bleached his hair and bought a golden, pearl handled pistol.

With each purchase, part of Gavin stopped caring about the others.  Let Michael be angry and let Ryan be mysterious, Gavin was going to shine like the sun.  He walked with his head held high, laughing at every turn and turning every head.

It didn't take long for the name to catch on.  Gavin the Golden Boy, who didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of him.  He, who was a deadly as cyanide and glittered like the sun and moon.

But when he came home, it all fell apart.  The sunglasses were loud as they clattered on the table beside the clunky watch.  He carefully hung up his designer clothes and wiped the golden eyeliner from his face and took out his sparkling earrings.  Gavin stripped down to his boxers before setting on his couch, pulling on a warm, red sweater and curling in on himself.

It still smelled like Michael.


	3. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since discovering Ray happy in New York, Ryan had never been able to get a full nights sleep. Whenever unconsciousness took him, it was never for very long. Fitful moments of scattered dreams. Living with the crew didn't make it go away.

The light from the laptop cast his room in stark shadows.  Ryan didn't dare turn on the light.  It was nearly 3 am and the rest of the penthouse was fast asleep.  Ryan almost envied them.  Almost.  He didn't envy Michael's anger.  He didn't envy Geoff's fear.  He certainly didn't envy Jack's compassion or Gavin's heartbreak.  Compared to the rest of his godforsaken crew, Ryan was well off.  Nothing held him back anymore.  He couldn't die, why make connections with anyone?

He was currently cross checking all their old files with the files Lindsay had given him.  During his time away, Ryan learned his fair share of hacking.  He found Ray after he went into hiding, after all.  Kdin swore she had already checked all the files, but it never hurt to be extra careful.

So far, everything matched up.  Only someone who knew the crew from before would catch onto the discrepancies.  Ryan leaned backwards in his chair.  His back popped.

The apartment suite was designed to be used in luxury, but Ryan had no luxuries to fill it with.  He had a desk and television in the main room, a modest kitchen table which was covered with guns and bullets.  His bedroom was nothing short of a fort, covered in weapons with an emergency plan to escape out the window if he needed to.  Ryan stood up and stretched his back even more.

He walked to the patio window, looking out over dark Los Santos.  It was a city that didn't sleep.  Downtown Los Santos was lit up as bright as the sky, and from his vantage point, the cars looked like toys.  Somewhere down there was the Corpirate and his underlings.  Somehow, out there, was a foothold for the Fakes to rise again, like a phoenix.

Next on his list was the Corpirate's cronies.  From what the Fakehaus guys had gathered, there were four underlings who answered to the Corpirate, each with their own specialty.  So far, all they had were identities, no idea where they were or how to get to them.  Well, Ryan grinned to himself, that was easy to fix.

First was Ursula Bear, the new Captain of the LSPD.  Months after the Fakes vanished, she took over the precinct and canned Matt and Jeremy.  Her cops were as crooked as they came, hunting down anyone who had connections to the Fake AH Crew.

Ryan opened up the paper file that Matt had given to him.  It had every bit of information they had on Ursula.  After bringing her cops into the precinct, she went underground  _hard_.  No one had heard or seen her since, other than a few glimpses here and there on particularly noteworthy arrests.

Oh the table, Ryan's phone buzzed, echoing in his apartment.  Tossing the files on the table, he picked up his phone, pressing it to his ear.

"Hello, Sonya," Ryan said.

"You no call," Sonya snapped.  "Been weeks, no call.  We thought you dead."

"Tell the boys I'm sorry.  Had a bit of a... reunion."

"Ah, reunion.  New friends make you forget old ones?"

Ryan laughed.  "Technically, they're the old friends.  It's my old crew.  We got back together."

Sonya hummed on the line, her disapproval clearly apparent.  "This crew, one who left you alone?  One who made you come to me?  Why do you return?"

That was the question, wasn't it?  Why did Ryan come back to Los Santos?  He had, while not a good life, a good  _thing_ going on in Russia.  He was part of Sonya's gang, a worthy and respected member in the mafia, and he dropped it all because of a green envelope.

He remembered landing in Los Santos, stepping of the plane and walking across the familiar street and seeing sights of a place that had been his home.

Maybe that was why he came back.  Russia had been great, taught him how to really be a mercenary, helped him see how far the human body could be pushed, but it was never home.  He never felt like Sonya and her gang was family, not like the Fakes.

"I dunno," Ryan hedged.

It didn't matter how he felt before, Ryan's heart was broken once, he wasn't going to let it happen again.  He would put his skills to use here, he would help Geoff out of honor for their past, but he would never go back to how things were before.  It was too risky.

"When you figure out, you call, yes?" Sonya chirped.  "Am missing favorite bodyguard."

"When this is all settled, I'll visit," Ryan promised.

"Yes.  Is good.  Good luck, Vagabond."

"Thanks, Sonya."

The line went dead and Ryan stared at the black screen, laughing softly to himself.  Favorite bodyguard, huh?  She normally didn't give out compliments like that.  He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and went back to his desk, taking his phone and Ursula's file with him.

By dawn, Ryan was no closer to finding Ursula's hideout than when he started.  The sky outside his window had grown dusty pink and the sounds of the other tenets waking up echoed around him.  Ryan's eyes were itchy from staring at his computer screen for too long.  Or was it because his last night of sleep was two days ago?  Stifling a yawn, Ryan shut his laptop and slid away from his desk.

He grabbed his phone and walked to his bedroom.  Collapsing on his bed, Ryan plugged his phone in and set it on his bedside table.  6:29 am.  He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, hoping that he could catch at least a few hours of sleep.

 

8:32 am.  Ryan blearily opened his eyes.  Two hours.  Ryan rolled out of bed.  He reached for his weights and started his workout routine.

 

10:53 am.  Every single weapon he owned had been disassembled and reassembled at least a dozen times.  Ryan would need more shotgun ammo soon and he made a note to take a visit to Ammunation soon.  He had a half-eaten omelette left on his plate.  He heard Michael shouting, muffled through the hallway, followed by some choice words from Gavin.

Bit early for them to be getting on, Ryan hummed to himself.

 

1:46 pm.  Lindsay had called an all crew meeting and Ryan was sitting at the table, mask in place, arms across his chest.  Everyone looked different since they last sat at this table, before they broke Geoff out of prison.  It had been weeks and Los Santos wasn't settling with everyone.  Well, everyone except for Gavin, who seemed to shine brighter than ever before.

"As I'm sure you're all aware," Lindsay started, looking at the crew assembled, "We have the identities of the Corpirate's four underlings.  If we can take them down, the Corpirate's empire will be weak and ripe for the taking.  The only problem is that we can't find them.  The Corpirate keeps his people close and well protected.  Fortunately for us, I know someone who can help us, if we can persuade her."

Geoff grinned and leaned forward, a familiar gleam in his eye.  "Meg?"

"Meg," Lindsay repeated.  "She never once associated with the crew, other than any other strip club would.  She's kept herself free of any criminal gangs, including yours.  But the Corpirate has wanted to recruit her for years; her strip club has the most information coming in and out.  Meg knows that it's time to pick a side so let's make sure she picks ours."

"I'll do it," Gavin raised his hand.  He was leaned back in his chair, golden sunglasses on his face and designer shirt open just enough.  "You need persuading?  I'm your man."

Lindsay brightened up.  "Yeah, actually, that's perfect.  Gavin, you go meet with Meg.  Tonight.  Take Ryan with you."

Gavin fell forward on his chair, his hands slamming on the table.  "What."

"Just in case something goes wrong," Lindsay explained.  "Never hurts to have a bodyguard."

"Yeah,  _Gavin_ ," Michael said.  "It's dangerous for you out there."

"I'm just as immortal as the rest of these lads," Gavin exclaimed.  "I can handle myself!  Besides, it'll be more suspicious if Ryan comes.  I'll look like a regular patron, nothing that would hit the Corpirate's radar."

"Geoff?" Lindsay turned to him.  "What do you think?  You know these boys best."

"Oh, um," Geoff fumbled over his words.  He glanced rapidly between Gavin and Ryan.  "I, uh, I dunno, Lindsay.  Gavin by himself would look less suspicious but if something breaks out I don't want him alone."

"If I'm alone then nothing is going to go wrong!"

"I just... I guess... by himself?" Geoff phrased it like a question, his voice tilting up with confusion.

Ryan snorted underneath his mask.  How the mighty have fallen.

"Send Gavin alone," Jack intervened.  "Then send someone else after him, not one of us, but Matt or Jeremy.  They can keep an eye on the transaction without drawing suspicion to themselves."

"That just might work," Lindsay agreed.  "We'll send in Kerry as backup.  The Corpirate has nothing on him, he'll be invisible."

"Right then," Gavin stood up and adjusted his shirt.  "I'll be off.  Text me with the details, love."

As he left, Gavin had the audacity to kiss Lindsay's cheek.  Ryan looked over at Michael.  He was absolutely seething.  The rest of the crew filed out soon after, leaving Michael and Ryan alone.

"That fucking cunt bastard," Michael growled.  "The fuck does he think he's doing?  Trying to warm up to the new boss?  Show her some good faith?  See how much good that is when you're  _dead_ , idiot!"

Ryan grunted and Michael whipped to him.

"What do you want?"

"Planned on robbing a few stores," Ryan shrugged.  "For shits and giggles.  Thought you might wanna come?  Help blow off some steam?"

Michael stared.  "That's the most words I've heard from you since we've come back."

Oh.  Ryan turned around and walked away.

"Wait!  I didn't - fuck, Ryan, wait up!"

 

5:19 pm.  The sirens were wailing in the distance and Ryan's blood was singing in his body.  He had a wound on his shoulder, which throbbed with every racing heartbeat, and a bag of cash in his hand.  Michael was no better off, blood pouring down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead.  He was grinning like a madman, fire alight in his eyes.

With all the cops chasing them, there would be no one to look for Gavin on the other side of town.

Ryan's head spun, partially from blood loss and maybe from lack of sleep, but he and Michael ran down the streets towards an old safe house and Ryan never felt more alive.

 

8:22 pm.  Michael was passed out on the moth-eaten sofa.  He had fresh stitches across his forehead, the skin bruised purple.  He almost offed himself, just to spare himself from the scar, but couldn't bring himself to do it.  It had been a long time since his last death and he was scared.  Ryan had slept fitfully for the last hour, but the adrenaline kept him from deep sleep.

And the dreams didn't help either.

 

It was after midnight and Ryan was restless.  He left a note for Michael in the morning and jogged back to his apartment.  He paused by Ramsey Enterprises, though, when he noticed an office light still on.  Ryan glanced around the empty parking lot.  Whoever was still awake didn't drive.  Curiosity overwhelmed him and Ryan's feet took him into the building.

On the third floor, Ryan walked down the hallway of office after office, all of them dark.  According to the elevator map, this floor was reserved for the architects.  So which dedicated bastard was still working at nearly 2 am?

The last office was lit up and Ryan knocked politely before opening the door.

"Sorry, Linds, I couldn't sleep and I know you wanted more information on - " Trevor turned around, coffee mug in his hand.  "Oh.  You're not Lindsay."

Ryan stared.  Trevor's eyes were sunken in and his hands were shaking.  He had a bruise on his left cheek and favored his right leg.  Ryan was aware of how he must look, sweaty and bloody from his evening heists.

"It's late," Ryan eventually said.

"Could say the same to you," Trevor commented.

"Couldn't sleep either."

"Um, the coffee machine is still running, if you wanted some?" Trevor offered.  "Third floor has the best."

Ryan nodded and Trevor mirrored the action.  "Right, um, c'mon then."

The break room was on the edge of the floor, right up against one of the window walls.  The coffee machine was whirring on the table and Trevor busied himself with it, making two cups.  Ryan sat down on one of the chairs and tugged his mask off.  The filtered air of the office felt cool on his sweaty face and he wiped at his forehead, black paint smearing on his hands.

Trevor held out a cup and Ryan noticed a fine circle of bruises on his wrists.  Handcuffs.  He sat down beside Ryan.

In silence they watched the sunrise, slowly sipping their coffee.


	4. Mogar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael didn't expect Gavin to flourish after he basically left him. But Gavin did flourish, went gold and glittery and didn't look back. Instead of apologizing (who did that anyway) Michael went on crime night with Ryan.
> 
> It felt good to go killing again, to cause pure mayhem. So that's what Michael did.

Michael kept the note on his fridge.  It was a little note from Ryan, a 'thanks for the heist, good night', but Michael had kept it.  Gavin had convinced Meg to join their crew and she had sent a coded note back for Lindsay.  There was no news of Ursula and, until then, the crew was free to do anything they wanted.

Geoff and Jack spent most of their free time checking with the other crews.  They held meetings with Fakehaus and the Kinda Fakes to test the limits of the Corpirate.  Ryan didn't leave the apartment most of the time, claimed he was researching.  And then there was Gavin, golden and glittery and Michael wanted nothing to do with him.  He wanted nothing to do with this fucking crew, with Lindsay and her perfect heist and thriving business.

They were going to lose this war, it was inevitable, but Michael couldn't bring himself to leave.  Like watching a train crash, Michael had to stay and see the whole shit storm go down.

Until then, Michael was bored out of his mind.  He was itching for a gun in his hand, for the sound of sirens and explosions, but he wasn't about to do it alone.  Even back during his mercenary days, Michael only took out contracts with a buddy (usually Ryan).  He worked his best when he had someone else beside him.  But without Ryan, and without Gavin, Michael didn't have many options.

Then again, there was Jeremy.  Michael sat up in his bed.  Jeremy had killed Geoff the first time, had yelled and cried over Matt's torture.  He was from Boston, filled with New England fury.  Not to mention he was still green, still new to acting on this side of the law.  Michael had never been a good teacher, but he'd much rather go on a crime spree with bright-eyed Jeremy than by himself.

Michael, feeling excitement creep up on him for the first time since he came back to Los Santos, grabbed his leather jacket from the floor and practically flew out of his apartment.

"Oi, watch it!"

And ran smack into Gavin.  He was wearing a navy blue shirt with golden threads sewn in and his trademark glasses.

"Sorry," Michael snapped.  "Messed up your makeup?"

Gavin scoffed and turned smartly on his heel to his apartment.  Michael clenched his fists, tension rolling down his shoulders.  He desperately needed that crime run now, anything to take the edge off his anger.

Standing in the elevator, Michael called Jeremy.

"Michael?" Jeremy answered.  "What's up?"

"Hey, you busy?"

"Um... not really.  Just having dinner with Matt right now."

"I'm about to rain hell on downtown Los Santos and I need your help," Michael said quickly.  "I mean, I could do it myself, of course, but that's boring, and I thought you might like the experience."

The elevator doors opened to the crews personal car garage.  Michael's chrome Adder was on one side, next to his OG 00Mogar.  Gavin had an atrocious Faggio parked next to them.  Ryan's Zentorno was opposite, looking vastly different beside Geoff's neon pink set of cars.  Michael hopped into his Adder and revved the engine.

"Oh, uh, actually, sure," Jeremy's voice lit up.  "Pick me up at the office?"

 

A crime spree was good on the best of days, but a crime spree with a good partner by your side?  That was indescribable.  Jeremy was a  _fantastic_ buddy and Michael was driving down to their third hit of the night.  The backseat of his car had two heavy bags and the chrome was starting to strip on the sides from all the bullets, but they weren't close to calling it a night, not yet.

Michael squealed around a corner and floored it, Jeremy laughing beside him.  They came to a jarring halt at a convenience store and jumped from the car, guns in hand.  Jeremy took the lead this time and he kicked the door down.

It happened in a split second.  Jeremy shouted about money and the clerk picked up a shotgun.  Michael jumped forward and pushed Jeremy down to the ground.  The shotgun fired, the sound of it echoing in Michael's ears.  He felt something hit him in the chest, knocking him flat on his back.  Michael couldn't breathe, blood bubbled up his throat.

Oh, he got shot, right in the chest, with a shotgun.

"Dammit," Michael groaned.

"Holy shit, Michael!" Jeremy shouted and knelt beside him.  His hands frantically waved over Michael's torn chest cavity.  "I gotta, we gotta, I don't know!  Caleb can help, right?"

Michael laughed and hot blood dribbled down his chin.  "Let me die, Jeremy.  Drag me back to my car, drive me home, and I'll be awake before you know it."

Jeremy stared.  "Immortal, right."  He laughed, shaky and weak.  "So, um, I guess I'll go get the money?"

"Yeah, do that," Michael sighed.  His fingers were getting cold.  "You did good, kid."

 

Michael woke up with a gasp.  Oh, thank god, immortality was still a thing.  He was lying on his couch and the sky outside was dark.  Michael grabbed at his chest, remembering the feeling of the shotgun blast tearing through him.  His chest was fine now, though he was missing his shirt.  Groggily, Michael stood up, his head spinning.  He hadn't died in years and forgot how disorienting it could be.

He hobbled to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey.  Fuck, he had a headache.

The bathroom door opened and Michael snapped his head up, ignoring the throbbing behind his eyes.  Jeremy walked out, equally as shirtless with traces of blood on his cheeks.

"You're awake," Jeremy said blankly.

"You're still here," Michael replied.

"Wanted to wait until you woke up.  You know, just in case."

Michael was touched.  "Well, still alive," he laughed.  He passed the glass to Jeremy.  "You look like you need it more than me."

Jeremy chuckled and took the drink, downing it quickly.  "I should get back.  Matt doesn't know and I don't want him to worry."

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Michael nodded.  "He won't be suspicious about you not having a shirt?"

"It's in the wash right now."

Michael noticed the sounds of his dryer running, a humming noise in the background.  Shit, he must've really been out of it.

"Wanna play a game?" Michael gestured to his Xbox.

Jeremy smiled.  "Yeah, I'd like that."


	5. Plot

Jeremy woke up in the middle of the night with a shout.  Panting, he rolled out of bed, his heart a jackhammer in his chest.  Jeremy blindly felt his way down the hallway until he came to the bathroom.  Not bothering with the light, he turned on the faucet and splashed his face.  He was home, with Matt, far away from Ursula with the protection of Lindsay on their side.

It was just a dream, Jeremy told himself.  No matter how real it felt, it was still a dream.

Jeremy shook his head.  No one would get to Matt.  Rimmy Tim hadn't been seen in months, since Lindsay took him in.  He was still at the top of the Corpirate's wanted list from what Steffie could hack at least.  Jeremy laughed softly, at least he still had his reputation.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it, being boots on the ground and attacking the Corpirate, but this was safer for him and for Matt.

Jeremy would do anything to keep Matt safe, even if it meant keeping himself away from Ursula.  Except that Jeremy couldn't help but want to do more than sit on his ass and  _wait_.  His little crime spree with Michael only made it more obvious to him - Jeremy belonged out in the field.  He was meant to be running and gunning, not office work.

He would have to talk to Lindsay about it, maybe Geoff too.

Drying his face off, Jeremy sighed.  The Fakes haven't been the same since they came back.  He hadn't wanted to say anything because that would be inconsiderate, but he couldn't help but notice it.  He had watched them grow to power, worked alongside them when it all went to shit, Jeremy knew the Fakes and he could tell they were acting off.

It wasn't any of his business though.  He was their dirty cop, not their friend.

The floor creaked and Jeremy jumped, hands in fighting stance.  God, why didn't he leave a gun in the bathroom?  He had one in the bedroom and one hiding in the kitchen.  Jeremy could punch the guy out and make a break for it, as long as they didn't get to Matt - that was all that mattered.

"Jeremy?"

He went limp, arms falling to his side.  "Shit, Matt."

"What are you doing?" Matt asked, flipping the bathroom light.  They both winced at the sudden brightness.

"Just... had a nightmare," Jeremy said.  Matt looked so frail in the bathroom light and Jeremy wanted to hold him close, keep him safe.  He didn't deserve the life they were given.  "I keep... I keep dreaming about Ursula.  That she found us and, I don't know, tortured us."

"Hey, we're safe now," Matt said and he wrapped his long arms around Jeremy's shoulders.  "Lindsay's looking out for us.  You know she'll never let anything happen to us.  And with the rest of the Fakes back, Ursula's been hiding.  No one has seen her."

"That's what worries me," Jeremy muttered.  "You know her, that bitch has the worst ego.  She likes the press conferences, the spotlight.  She doesn't stay hidden for too long."

"Maybe she's waiting for something big," Matt suggested.  "All these small time arrests aren't worth her time."

"That's it!" Jeremy exclaimed, pulling back from Matt's chest.  "That's how we get her!  That's how we lure her out!  By having her arrest Geoff!  She can't resist that."

"She's not interested in Geoff, though," Matt pointed out.  "That was always what the Corpirate wanted but not her."

Realization dawned on Jeremy and his grip on Matt tightened.  "She wants us."

* * *

Lindsay's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "And you're certain this is going to work?"

"We need to take out the Corpirate's lackeys before we even have a chance of getting to him," Jeremy explained.  "I know Ursula.  She can't resist finally arresting Matt.  Then we spring the trap and take her out."

"What if she doesn't come?" Geoff piped up.

Jeremy took a breath.  The conference room was mostly empty, the crew out on minor heists and setups, just Geoff and Lindsay at the table with Jeremy standing at the head by the whiteboard.

"Then we kill whoever comes for Matt and I'll be the bait next time," Jeremy said.

"If we try to trap her twice, she won't come out," Geoff leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet onto the table.  "This is a one time job, kid, I need you to be sure it's going to work."

"Then I'll go with him," Jeremy said.  Geoff looked skeptical still and Jeremy sighed.  "Listen, Geoff, she knew that Matt and I were part of the Fakes.  She couldn't prove anything, but she knew.  That's why she canned us so quick, to get us out of her precinct.  If Ursula has the chance to take us out, interrogate us about the Fakes, she'll take it."

"The Corpirate would reward her," Lindsay mused.  "He'd give her all that attention she craves."

"Exactly," Jeremy said.  "You two want to bring the Fakes back, take down the Corpirate?  This is how we start, this is how we do it."

Lindsay was nodding along with Jeremy and Geoff only shrugged.

"We'll have to put one of our guys as Captain of the station," Lindsay said, phone in hand and typing furiously on it.  "I've got a few favors I can call in.  Jeremy, I want you to work with Geoff and get this plan into action.  Good job."

Jeremy beamed.

 


	6. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts: I picked the villain names from the enemies that Michael and Gavin faced in their FNAF Immersion (Pongo, Diddles, and Ursa). I've also had the song "Angel with a Shotgun" as a Jeremy song, so imagine that playing romantically in the background of this.
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking with me during this. I'm sorry for the disjointed feeling this fic gives, but as I said before, I just want to get this fic out and maybe someday I'll revisit and polish but who knows?

He only had time to push Matt out of the way before the entire street exploded.  Just as Jeremy expected, Ursula couldn't resist the glory of arresting the Fakes dirty cops.  It had gone of without a hitch: Matt and Jeremy committing petty crime, cops show up, Ursula shows up, and then the Fakes close in.

But Jeremy forgot one important calculation - the Fakes were all pissed at each other.

"How about that, Gavin?!" Michael yelled.  "Big enough explosion for you?!"

"You know, it wasn't!" Gavin shouted back.  "You losing your touch, bitch?"

"You - "

"SHUT UP!" Geoff screeched over the two.  "Jeremy, Matt, what's going on down there?"

Jeremy coughed and tried to survey the scene through the ringing in his ears.  Matt was underneath him, safe from the rain of bullets overhead.  The alley for the trap was looking like a bad idea.  Ursula and her cops surrounded them and, while Michael's explosion was impressive, it didn't take care of the cops.  The alley was covered in smoke, a building was burning on the side and there were nearly a dozen burning cars scattered across the alley.  Jeremy and Matt came into this fight with barely a pistol between them, trusting that the Fake AH would have their back.

But, as Michael and Gavin continued to fight, Jeremy realized it wasn't going to happen.

"It's a shit storm down here," Jeremy grabbed Matt and they crawled behind a burnt out car frame, bullets pinging off the metal.

Matt coughed and Jeremy's chest tightened at the sound.

"-compensating for something, eh boi?"

"I never heard you complaining about it before!"

In any other circumstance, Jeremy could have mistaken the fighting for friendly teasing, but there was a bitter undercurrent in Michael and Gavin's words.  Geoff, normally so authoritative, could only shout over the two.  Ryan and Jack were silent.

"You could have killed them, Michael!" Geoff shouted.

"But I didn't!  Grow a fucking pair, Geoff.  They're fine."

As if to emphasize his point, another explosion went off and the entire west side of the alley collapsed, crushing a group of cops underneath the rubble.  The ground shook and Matt's grip on Jeremy's arm tightened.  Jeremy peered over the ruined car, his eyes drawn to Ursula, standing proudly in the alley, unaffected by the explosion.  Her blonde hair blew free in the wind and she had a heavy assault rifle in her hand.

Jeremy looked down at the AP pistol on his hip.  He looked at Matt's face, pale and scared.  He had a cut on the side of his head from where they crashed against the asphalt.  He looked terrified and Jeremy felt his resolve stick in his chest.  Something must've showed on his face because Matt sat up straighter, holding onto Jeremy with both hands.

"You can't go," he whispered.  "They'll kill you."

"I have to," Jeremy pulled out his pistol, checking the clip on it.  Eighteen bullets.  Satisfied, Jeremy slid it back into place and flipped off the safety.  "Ursula is a key player in the Corpirate's empire and we have to take her down.  The Fakes are busy and I have to do something."

"You'll die, Jeremy.  This isn't you being Rimmy Tim, this is real!" Matt scoffed at the shock on Jeremy's face.  "Yeah, I know about your vigilantism, but you always came home.  This?  You can't come home from this."

"Better me than you," Jeremy said.  "You're everything I have, Matt, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you self."

Jeremy bent down and pressed a deep, longing kiss to Matt's lips, cradling his face, memorizing the feel of his skin and the taste of his lips.  He ignored the hiccup from Matt and the feeling of tears on his face.

This was worth it - to keep Matt safe.

He grabbed his gun and vaulted over the car.

* * *

Sluggishly, Jeremy forced his eyes open.  The sky was bright blue and he winced at the brightness.  His head was pounding and he couldn't breathe for a moment.  The smell of blood and smoke washed over him.  He could taste gunpowder and his throat clicked as he tried to swallow.  Achingly, his flexed his fingers and felt the metal of a gun brush his fingertips.

Jeremy tested his body, flexed his legs and arms for any signs of damage.  Other than his muscles aching, nothing seemed to be out of order.  Satisfied, Jeremy slowly sat up and took stock of his surroundings.

He was still the alley where they ambushed Ursula.  The place was covered with dead cops, covered in blood and rubble, spent shell casings scattered the ground like morbid confetti.  There was no sign of the Fakes, of Ursula, or Matt.  Forcing his stiff limbs to cooperate, Jeremy stood up.  It looked like a massacre happened in the alley and, if Jeremy remembered right, a massacre _had_ happened.

The buildings that Michael had rigged to explode were still smoking, so Jeremy hadn't been unconscious for that long.  He was surprised that he'd been left out on the street.  Matt wouldn't have left him if he had a choice.  Maybe he didn't have a choice...

Jeremy pulled out his cell phone and cursed when he saw the cracked screen.  He lifted his arm to throw it on the ground but paused at the sight of his hand.

It was covered in blood - brown and crusty, flaking off his skin.  Heart in his throat, Jeremy looked down at his chest and balked.  He was covered in blood, still moist where it touched his skin.  Jeremy tried not to cringe as he pulled his shirt off and flung it on the ground.  He'd rather go around Los Santos shirtless than looking like a victim in a slasher film.

Taking one agonizing step in front of the other, Jeremy walked back to Ramsey Enterprises.

 

It was nearing dusk by the time Jeremy made it back to base.  He hobbled into the building, throat dry and vision blurring.  His shoulders were tightening from the exposure to the sun and he'd have a wicked sunburn tomorrow.  The cool air of the building touched his skin and goosebumps exploded all over his bare chest.  Across the lobby, Kdin and Steffie sat at the receptionist desk, wearing matching ribbons in their hair.

At the sight of the girls, Jeremy smile and fell to his knees.

"Jeremy!"

That was Kdin, Jeremy let out a rough laugh from where he was collapsed on the linoleum floor.  He had known Kdin for years, watched her grow and blossom into the gorgeous woman she was today.  She'd always kept a special eye out for him and Matt, keeping them updated on the Fake AH Crew.  Jeremy would be dead ten times over if it wasn't for her.

He drifted in and out of the conversation happening over him.  He was so tired... so thirsty...

"Oh, my god, it is!" Steffie cried out.

"Everyone else came back hours ago..."

"Is he okay?"

"He's breathing..."

"I thought they said he was dead..."

"They said Ursula shot him."

"And that he died."

"He's clearly not dead!"

"I noticed, Kdin!"

"We have to bring him to Lindsay."

"She's still dealing with Ursula right now..."

"Steffie, he's alive, they have to know," Kdin's hand touched Jeremy's shoulder and his eyes snapped open.  "Can you walk?"

He nodded and Kdin lifted him up, hoisting an arm over her shoulder.  Steffie was quick to swoop underneath Jeremy's other side and the two of them helped Jeremy into the elevator.  Jeremy let his eyes slide shut and rest against Kdin.  He let his mind drift off and they landed, unsurprisingly, on Matt.

Where was he?  Jeremy had double checked the bodies and there was no sign of Matt (or Ursula for that matter).  Again, Jeremy tried to remember what had happened.  He jumped the car, firing his pistol blindly.  He remembered seeing the shock on Ursula's face as a bullet hit her shoulder.  Jeremy remembered taking down at least a half a dozen cops before they fired back.

Then what?  It was all blackness after that.

He heard Matt shouting, heard Geoff finally send Ryan down to help, heard the long rattle of an assault rifle...

Felt bullets hit him in the chest, bursting through his body.  Holding a hand to his chest, warm with blood.

The elevator dinged and Jeremy opened his eyes.

The conference room was dead silent, other than the soft sound of someone crying.  Jeremy forced his eyes to focus on the scene in front of him.  Lindsay was at the head of the table, her usual place, staring down at a box in front of her.  Ryan hovered over her shoulder like a bodyguard.  Geoff and Jack sat on her right, hands held so tightly their knuckles where white.  Gavin, directly on Lindsay's left, looked more subdued, his golden makeup smeared down his face and hair drooping.  He sat with his arms folded tightly across his chest and shot furtive looks at Michael, who was on the opposite side of the table, blood splattered on his face.

At the far end was Matt, shoulders hunched over and shaking.  He was crying, Jeremy realized.

"Kdin, I said no more appointments," Lindsay turned around in her chair.  "I have enough - Jeremy?!"

Suddenly, everyone was staring at Jeremy, eyes wide and mouths gaping open.  Lindsay recovered first and immediately turned on Geoff.

"You said he was dead!"

"He was!" Geoff's voice jumped three octaves.  "We all saw it!  Ursula unloaded her entire magazine into him!"

Jeremy touched his chest, bare and whole, and remembered the blood.

"Well, here I am," Jeremy shrugged and tried to smile.  "Guess you're not the only immortals around."

"Guess not."

Gavin stood up abruptly, a wide smile plastered on his face.  He brushed his cheeks and set his shoulders back before walking up to Jeremy.  He put a hand on Jeremy's shoulder, squeezing gently.  "Welcome back, 'Lil J," he said before walking to the elevator.

Everyone else gave him similar words and nods, Jack actually pulling him into a hug, as they left the conference room.  Lindsay closed up the box and gestured for Ryan to follow her.  Michael gave him a small smile before looking back at Matt.

He hadn't moved.

Jeremy hobbled over to him and fell into the chair next to him.  He was still crying.

"Hey," Jeremy whispered and dared to put a hand on Matt's arm.  "It's okay, I'm here."

Matt pulled away.  "You shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay; I'm alive!"

"That's not the fucking point!" Matt exclaimed and turned to face Jeremy.  His face was red and eyes swollen from the tears.  "You  _died_ , Jeremy.  It doesn't matter that you came back, the point is that you died.  I saw Ursula tear into you.  I saw you die.  I watched Michael try to bring you back and eventually Ryan had to drag me away!"

"I had to!  Taking down the Corpirate matters more than me!  YOU matter more than me!"

"Listen to yourself.  We've been partners since joining the LSPD.  We've always done things together, we've been equals, Jeremy.  You can't keep secrets and you can't throw yourself into danger - that's not how this works."  Matt sighed and reached out to take Jeremy's hand.  "I know you would sacrifice yourself for me, you've always been that way.  But I need you to be here with me.  You can't leave me behind."

Jeremy let Matt lace their fingers together and he took a deep breath.  "You're right, Matt.  I'm sorry.  I just want to keep you safe."

Matt let out a low chuckle.  "Secrets never kept anyone safe."

"I guess you're right," Jeremy leaned forward and kissed Matt.  "Let's go home."

Matt smiled, small and tentatively.  "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's immortal, yes, but Matt isn't (sorry)


	7. Bodyguard

The elevator dinged as Lindsay and Ryan came to the top level of the building.  When she had commissioned the building, she almost placed the conference room on the top floor, but this was the first thing she splurged on after creating her own business and, damn it, she wanted her office to be on the top floor.  Her office doubled as a small apartment, for the late nights when she couldn't make it home.

The door opened to a large open room.  The back wall had massive, floor to ceiling windows with a large mahogany desk in front.  To the left was an open kitchen, furnished with stainless steal and dark marble, and to the right was a large white sectional and glass coffee table.  A door behind the the sectional led to a small bedroom and ensuite bathroom.  As Lindsay walked in, the lights flipped on, casting the entire office in warm light.

She slipped out of her shoes and closed the curtains behind her desk.  Ryan hovered at the entryway, box still in his arms.  He lifted it questioningly.

"I dunno," Lindsay shrugged.

She sat down at her desk and sighed in relief.  She jiggled the mouse and her computer hummed to life.  Ryan hesitantly sat down on the chair opposite, cradling the box on his lap.  He was silent while Lindsay checked her emails, forwarding the official business to Steffie and replying to Kovic's weekly report.  She briefly scanned Meg's report on Pongo and Edgar and laughed at her comments on Gavin's flirtations.

The entire time, the box in Ryan's lap haunted her.

Lindsay knew what she was doing, rebuilding the Fakes.  She was prepared to lead a crime syndicate, learned business and became as cutthroat as the Corpirate.  In terms of her company, Lindsay was thriving.  In terms of crime, she was still learning.  Breaking Geoff out of prison left her uneasy - she heard the gunshots over the headsets, each one racking up her anxiety.  But she had been safe in Ramsey Enterprises, far from the damage.

This, however, was violent crime knocking on her door.  The Fakes were covered in blood and soot and one man short.  They were grim faced and tight lipped and Lindsay realized the full gravity of what she was doing.  Then Ryan had dropped a box on the table that left her shaking, not that she showed that in front of the crew.

With a heavy sigh, Lindsay closed her email and folded her arms, looking at Ryan's blue eyes through his mask.

"I assume you have a plan for that," Lindsay said.

Ryan nodded.

"Something from your days in Russia?"

He nodded again.

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

Ryan shrugged.

Lindsay leaned back in her chair.  "Tell me."

"Send it to the Corpirate," Ryan said.  "Show him we mean business."

"Mail it?"

"Too dangerous.  We need to sneak it into his office."

Lindsay grinned.  "I know just the guy."  She picked up her phone and pressed a button.  "Bring me Trevor."

Ryan jumped slightly in the chair and Lindsay held back a laugh.

"You two insomniacs have plenty of time.  I'm sure you'll be able to break in and leave the Corpirate our little gift."

Ryan nodded and the elevator dinged.  Trevor waltzed into Lindsay's office.  His cheery smile couldn't hide the heavy bags under his eyes or the twitch of his fingers, but Lindsay pretended not to notice.  He stopped right next to Ryan, sparing him a small smile that Ryan reciprocated.  He gave Lindsay a mock salute and rested a hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"You called, Boss?"

"I need you and Ryan to deliver this to the Corpirate," Lindsay said.  "Personally."

Trevor flipped open the box and reeled backwards, face pale and sunken eyes wide.  "This... this is..."

Lindsay blinked slowly.  This was her bed, it was time to lay in it.  "Yeah.  It's Ursula's head."

"And when you mean personally..."

"Straight Godfather style."

Trevor closed the box and took half a step away from it.  "Okay, Boss, you got it."

Ryan stood up and Lindsay took a moment to appreciate how silent and dangerous Ryan was.  Carrying the severed head of Ursula Bear, prepared to break into the Corpirate's office to leave it for him, he looked cooler than ice.  Trevor twitched and his fingers flexed.  He grinned up at Ryan brightly and they left Lindsay's office together.

"Ryan," Lindsay called as Trevor hit the elevator button.  "When this is done, come back.  I have a request for you."

Ryan only nodded and followed Trevor into the elevator.  Lindsay picked up her phone and pressed the button for Steffie.

"Yes, Lindsay?" Steffie picked up instantly.

"Can you send Kerry up?  I have a question for him," Lindsay said.  She picked up a pen and started doodling on a spare piece of paper.

"Oh, of course.  He'll be up in a moment, Lindsay."

Lindsay thanked her and hung up the phone.  The Corpirate was flush with bodyguards and hired mercenaries.  He practically had an army at his beck and call.  Geoff, when they had first taken over, had no such army.  Then again, he and his crew were immortals.  When one couldn't die, bodyguards tended to be useless.  Lindsay, however, was not immortal and, after this incident, she would have a huge target on her back.

She opened the Fakes files on her computer.  It wasn't much, just a simple spread sheet on each of the Fakes, strengths and weaknesses, personality traits and quirks, things that would help her organize them for heists.  She opened Jeremy's file and added "immortality" on his strengths.  Her mouse hovered over Michael's file and, against her better judgement, she opened it.

He had been her first choice for a bodyguard, tough and good with a gun, but Lindsay couldn't go flirting with her bodyguards, it was unseemly.  The picture of Michael on her file was during the original Fake AH days.  He was younger, curly hair wilder, eyes brighter, flipping off the camera with his tongue sticking out.  Lindsay picked it special, for the boyish face and smattering of freckles.

She had imagined Michael as her bodyguard, the two of them walking down the streets together, him keeping her safe.  The more she had thought about it, the more she knew she would never look at Michael with anything less than unadulterated lust.  Considering he and Gavin were already in a messy situation, Lindsay kept herself away from Michael.

The elevator pinged and Kerry walked in.

"You called?" he said.

"What do you think about me having a bodyguard?" Lindsay said.

Kerry's eyes widened and he quickly sat down at Lindsay's desk.  "A bodyguard?  Why would you need one?"

"We just killed Ursula, the head of the LSPD, and are sending her head to the Corpirate as a warning.  He's going to know we did it, Kerry.  He's going to know that  _I_ did it.  By this time next week, I'm going to have a bounty on my head as big as the island.  I can't go walking down this city without protection.  I'm not immortal like Geoff."

"Are... are you sure about this?" Kerry leaned forward.  "It has to be someone you trust, someone who knows that you're leading the Fakes.  I doubt we can just call in a friendly mercenary to do the job."

"I was thinking Ryan," Lindsay said.

What little color was in Kerry's face drained.  " _This_ Ryan?  Ryan Haywood?  Mad Mercenary Ryan?"

"Yes, Kerry, our Ryan Haywood," Lindsay said.  "He's been with the Fakes.  He's immortal and he'll scare the shit out of any assassins who try and kill me.  Provided he agrees, he'd be the perfect bodyguard."

"I... you're right," Kerry said.  "I hate to see you in such danger, Linds, that you have to hire a bodyguard."

"I decided to bring back the Fakes.  I decided to take down the Corpirate.  This is all part of the job, Kerry.  You and I both know that."

Kerry nodded.  "I worked with Ryan from before.  He's different now, but he'll take care of you."

"Thank you, Kerry.  That means a lot."

He stood up to leave and glanced at Lindsay's computer screen, filled with Michael's criminal file.  Lindsay refused to blush as Kerry raised an eyebrow.  "Business or pleasure, boss?"

Lindsay coughed.  "Thank you, Kerry, you are free to leave."

Kerry's laugh echoed in the room long after he left.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Same Desk for the win in this chapter.


	8. Godfather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was literal hell. I've spent weeks asking myself "if the fakes can break into the office, why can't they just kill the Corpirate there?" and trying to close that plot hole.
> 
> It took a while, but here we are!

Trevor was good at his job.  He was good as a private investigator.  He didn't let anything stop him from getting to the bottom of his cases.  He learned how to out talk lawyers, how to find loopholes in the law.  He was the best.  But that time had long since passed.  Trevor sold his office for a couple grand and immediately bought a pistol, a lock picking kit, and leather gloves.

For months he worked as a thief.  He worked his way up from petty thefts in suburban neighborhoods to gutsy heists in downtown Los Santos.  There was a bounty on his head and Trevor learned to sleep with a gun in his hand.  He never stayed in one place too long, always on the move.  But the island was only so big and Trevor couldn't run forever.  He slept less and less, too paranoid to let unconsciousness take him for long.

The first time Trevor was arrested it was on a gas station robbery.  He got greedy, broke into the safe in the back room and left the cashier unattended.  By the time he had the money in his bag (a measly $1,932) the LSPD was there.  They dragged him to the station and locked him in a windowless room, handcuffed to the table.  They tried to interrogate him, demanding the location of Matt and Jeremy.  They asked if he knew about the Fake AH Crew, where they were, if they were coming back.  They asked about Ramsey Enterprises.

Trevor laughed and they beat the shit out of him.

He broke out himself.  It was too risky for Lindsay to pay his bail, too risky for the LSPD to make the connection between them.

Trevor was good and slipped out of the precinct before his story hit the news.

When Lindsay asked him and Ryan to deliver the severed head of Ursula Bear personally to the Corpirate's office, Trevor knew he could do it.  He'd been keeping careful surveillance on the office for years.  He knew the guards routine and schedule.  He knew the security codes and access terminals.  He hacked into the feed of the building and had a rough blueprint sketched out.

"We can only do this once," Trevor said.

He and Ryan were in the conference room of Ramsey Enterprises.  All of Trevor's schematics were scattered on the table - the guard schedule, the passwords, the hallways and maintenance pathways.  His eyes glanced over the papers, hoping beyond hope this wouldn't end up a suicide run.

"The only reason we can even attempt to do this is because the Corpirate has gotten complacent," Trevor continued, pulling a blueprint of the offices closer.  "He usually changes guards and passwords every week.  He stages building maintenance so thieves can't plan on using any of the maintenance shafts or hallways.  Not to mention the biometrics that guard his personal office are supposed to recognize only him but our dear Corpirate is only human."

Trevor pointed at a picture from the security camera.  It showed a pretty blonde woman using her fingerprints to open the Corpirate's personal office.

"Barbara, Code Name: Golden Eye," Trevor said.  "She's one of Meg's girls.  She's been working for months to get close to the Corpirate.  I doubt this is what Lindsay had in mind but this is what we're going with.  She's planted on the bottom floor and we're going to make it look like a kidnapping and forced entry.  Hopefully that keeps her from the Corpirate's suspicion."

Ryan, who had been hovering silently over Trevor's shoulder, leaned forward and tapped on the list of guard changes.  Trevor held his breath at the feeling of Ryan's broad chest brushing his shoulder.

"Soon," Ryan muttered, his voice sending a shiver down Trevor's spine.

"Are you ready?" Trevor asked.

Ryan pulled back.  Beneath his mask, Trevor could make out ice blue eyes flashing in the dim light of the conference room.  Ryan gave one, terse nod, and Trevor nodded back.

* * *

At sunset, Trevor and Ryan were leaning against the Maze Bank, sharing a cigarette while waiting for the last of the Corpirate's employees to leave.  Trevor felt jittery - he always did before a big hit.  The messenger bag slung over his body had all the codes, his burner phone with Kdin's latest hacking technology, his favorite lock pick and pistol.  Ryan had a backpack with Ursula's head, a 9mm tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and a dangerous assortment of knives hidden on his person.

Most surprising, was Ryan's bare face.  Trevor knew Ryan from before, when his face was rounder and his eyes crinkled with laugh lines.  Now he looked tired, his face set into a scowl, lips pulled down at the corners.  Trevor was different too, thinner, meaner.  He let out the smoke from his lungs, blowing it to dissipate into the sky.  Time changes everyone.

"If he's there, we could just kill him," Trevor muttered softly.

Ryan shook his head.

"Well, why not?" Trevor dropped his cigarette and ground it under his heel.  "Take him out, his crime syndicate falls and we take over."

"No," Ryan growled.  "Someone else will take over.  I've seen it."

"You are extra cryptic tonight," Trevor sighed.  "Okay, Mad Mercenary, we'll do it your way."

An hour later, the last employee left with a cheery farewell to the guard.  Trevor's phone buzzed in his bag and he glanced at the screen.  It was a text from Barbara.  Trevor pulled out a bandanna from his back pocket and tied it around his face.  Ryan's skull mask was already in place.  It was time.

They waited for the traffic to stop and casually walked across the street.  The door guard had a pistol on his hip and wore basic body armor.  Ryan took two steps ahead of Trevor and casually slung his arm around the guard's neck.  Trevor saw Ryan's bicep muscles bulge as he casually choked him out and felt a surge of hot admiration for Ryan.

No wonder Lindsay picked him to be her bodyguard.

Pulling out his phone, Trevor knelt by the door panel and activated Kdin's app.  Within a few seconds, the light flashed green, followed by the click of the door unlocking.  Ryan pushed through, dragging the unconscious guard behind him.  Ryan threw the body to the side and Trevor zeroed in on Barbara, sitting in the middle of the foyer and wearing the perfect mask of surprise.

Ryan pulled out a gun from his jeans and reached for her, grabbing her by the hair and jamming the gun against her head.

Trevor bit back a retort about how she was on  _their_ side and ignored the very real tears in Barbara's eyes.

"He's not here!" Barbara cried out.  "He's visiting Liberty City!"

Ryan growled.  "Take us to his office."

The Corpirate's office wasn't on the top floor, he was too paranoid for that.  His was smack in the middle of the building, hidden among a maze of cubicles.  Barbara led them flawlessly towards the office, whimpering as Ryan continued to yank her by the hair.  The biometrics scanned her fingerprint and the door slid open.  Ryan looked down at Barbara, tear tracks down her cheeks and hair mussed up.  A bruise was starting to build from where he had jammed his gun against her face.  He looked down at his gun, then back to her.

"Wait, no!" Trevor reached out but it was too late.

With a sickening  _crack_ , Ryan slammed his gun against Barbara's head, knocking her out.  He looked back at Trevor, his blue eyes icy beneath the mask, and moved through the office door.

When Trevor was making the transition from ex-private investigator to full time criminal, he had met Meg and her girls.  The strip club was a hub of information and Meg knew how to capitalize on her connections.  Trevor spent many nights there, learning how to walk unseen in public and how to take advantage of misdirection.  At one point, he'd had a small tryst with Barbara, but they broke it off soon after, staying friends.

A trickle of blood trailed down her face and her eye began to blacken.  Trevor wanted to bend over and wipe the blood away, tuck her blonde hair back and carry her back home.

A different part of him, the stronger part, knew he couldn't.  It would be too suspicious, blow her cover.  She knew what she was getting into when she took this assignment.

Ryan came out of the office, backpack missing.  He touched Trevor's shoulder and leaned down, close enough that Trevor could smell the rubber of his mask.

"Had to make it real," he said softly.  "Let's go."

Trevor followed.

 

Ryan insisted on driving and Trevor sat stiffly in the passenger seat.  They were two blocks away before the sirens started up.  Ryan obediently pulling to the side with every emergency vehicle that passed them.  It was the smoothest operation Trevor had ever been a part of and they would never be able to do it again.

"He's gonna pull more security in," Trevor whispered.  "Probably won't leave his mansion anymore either.  I don't know why we didn't just wait and kill him."

"Psychological warfare," Ryan grunted.  "Make him scared, make him run.  Take out his subordinates then no one will rise up after him."

"Oh."

Silence fell among them again.  Trevor was still jittery, riled up with adrenaline.  He kept thinking about how Ryan effortlessly subdued the guard, how efficiently he knocked out Barb and how he justified it.  His mind wandered to the broad shoulders underneath the leather jacket, his thick and calloused fingers wrapped around a coffee mug or a weapon.

They had spent many long nights together in the office, in silence working on their own projects, and Trevor felt a glimmer of camaraderie between them.  But, as he watched Ryan's profile highlighted by passing streetlights, Trevor started to feel something more than that, something hot and molten.

Ryan noticed Trevor staring and gave him a half smirk and, sure enough, Trevor felt arousal tugging in his gut.

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, you're not imagining it, this is a Ryan/Trevor ship starting to sail. Slowly, in the distance.


End file.
